


Repeat the Sounding Joy

by allonsy_gabriel



Series: Another 51 [28]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Crowley Has Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Eggnog, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED, crowley in a santa hat, it's october but i dOn't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allonsy_gabriel/pseuds/allonsy_gabriel
Summary: Aziraphale had always loved Christmas. It was fitting, given the fact that he’d been there for the first one—it’d all been so exciting, apparently, and the angel insisted it’d been too long since he’d been able to take part in a true Heavenly Choral Session, that it was nice to stretch his wings and sing a bit.The angel was a beacon of Christmas cheer. He decorated the shop with holly and ivy and tinsel and twinkling lights, he played Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, and Frank Sinatra records on loop, he wore tacky jumpers, he drank obscene amounts of hot chocolate, he baked cookies and lit candles and kept the fire roaring at all hours.Actually, when Crowley thought about it, most of those were pretty normal Aziraphale behaviour.





	Repeat the Sounding Joy

**Author's Note:**

> it's! october! merry christmas!

Aziraphale had always loved Christmas. It was fitting, given the fact that he’d been there for the first one—it’d all been so  _ exciting _ , apparently, and the angel insisted it’d been too long since he’d been able to take part in a  _ true _ Heavenly Choral Session, that it was nice to stretch his wings and sing a bit.

The angel was a beacon of Christmas cheer. He decorated the shop with holly and ivy and tinsel and twinkling lights, he played Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole, and Frank Sinatra records on loop, he wore tacky jumpers, he drank obscene amounts of hot chocolate, he baked cookies and lit candles and kept the fire roaring at all hours.

Actually, when Crowley thought about it, most of those were pretty normal Aziraphale behaviour.

Crowley, on the other hand, hadn’t ever really been a huge fan of the festive season.

He was not a fan of the  _ calm _ or the  _ bright _ or of  _ bringing good cheer to young and old _ .

(Halloween, on the other hand?  _ There _ was a holiday worth its salt. Spookiness, scariness, mischief and chaos and ridiculous costumes were all right up Crowley’s alley. He had monopolized that alley, actually.  _ Spooky Stuff and General Tomfoolery copyrighted by Anthony J. Crowley, LLC. _ )

So, the holiday season? Overrated. Boring. Unnecessary.  _ Bah humbug _ , thank you very much.

Aziraphale’s feelings, however?

Of the  _ utmost importance _ . Maximum priority. Items one through fifty-seven on Crowley’s list of  _ things worth actually caring about _ .

(The other alley Crowley had monopolized was, in fact, the  _ caring about Aziraphale _ alley.  _ Being In Love With One Particular Fussy Angel  _ was also  _ copyrighted by Anthony J. Crowley, LLC. _ )

So on December first, approximately six months after the Apocalet’s-not, the demon Crowley took a deep breath, swallowed his pride, and walked into a Hobbycraft with a checklist in hand.

  * __Fluffy blankets with the stuff on them__
  * _Fluffy pillows with the stuff on them_
  * _Those circle-door-plant things? Ask about it_
  * _The most outrageous baubles they sell_
  * _Big Christmas socks? Investigate_
  * _Candy canes_
  * _Those dumb hats with the pom-poms and fake fur_
  * _Fake trees. No real trees. He’s too soft, they’ll walk all over him. Not literally. They’re trees._

It was  _ sickening _ .

There was some sort of pretentious guitar cover of Greensleeves playing over the speakers, somewhere a baby was crying, a middle-aged woman was shouting at a cashier about coupons, and the whole place looked like someone had vomited green and red glitter all over the place.

The amount of chaos and frustration that sat in the store almost knocked Crowley off his feet, hitting him in the gut like a poorly-aimed frisby.

So maybe Christmas had  _ some  _ perks.

As previously established, the demon Crowley was something of an angel expert.

Well. A  _ certain  _ angel expert.

(Satan fucking knew he had  _ no _ idea about any of  _ Gabriel’s _ preferences, besides his preference for being  _ a complete and utter irredeemable twat _ .)

So when he stepped onto the aisle containing all the Christmas ornaments, he knew  _ exactly  _ what he had to get.

He smiled as the glass figure was wrapped in paper and carefully placed inside his shopping bag.

( _ Reusable  _ shopping bag, of course. He’d spent eleven bloody years trying to save the planet, he wasn’t about to go and fucking  _ help destroy it _ .)

(Besides, he understood just how  _ fucking _ annoying it was to watch that one smarmy git in line say, “Uh, actually, no bags, please. I’m trying to  _ save the planet _ ,” and he had to get his demonic rocks off somehow, didn’t he?)

**

“Angel!” he said as he tottered into the bookshop, weighed down by the multitude of bags he was carrying. “Can I get a hand, here?”

Aziraphale poked his head around the corner of one of his over-stuffed bookshelves. He was already in a truly  _ atrocious _ vest covered in  _ teddy bear angels _ , buttoned up in place of his usual waistcoat. His bowtie was red and green and gold tartan.

Crowley hated how his heart shook like a fucking _ bowl full of jelly _ .

Stupid adorable angels.

“Yes, dear?” he asked, and then he took in the plethora of  _ things _ Crowley was holding and rushed to his side immediately, taking a few of them into his arms with a quiet, “Oh!”

“I, uh,” Crowley mumbled. “Got you some stuff. Y’know. For Christmas.”

“Oh, my darling, you shouldn’t have!”

“Well, it’s too bloody late now, innit?” Crowley said, wobbling as he made his way to the back room, where he dumped all the bags on the floor.

All but one, the one containing a special decoration, wrapped up in the thick, brown paper.

They spent the next few hours decorating the shop. Or, Aziraphale decorated. Crowley mostly lay on the sofa, drinking the spiked eggnog he’d picked up on the way back from Hobbycraft.

He did, however, have on one of the hats, the one that had the word  _ naughty  _ embroidered in the middle of the white faux-fur. Aziraphale had on the corresponding  _ nice _ hat, and Crowley was trying to get his ridiculous sappy feelings under control.

He was a  _ demon _ . Evil. Scary. Off-putting.

Get it  _ together _ , for Hell’s sake.

Finally, Aziraphale joined him on the couch after putting what he insisted were  _ the final touches _ on the fake tree in the corner.

“Thank you for getting all of this for me, dear,” he said, pressing a light kiss to Crowley’s cheek as he took the demon’s glass from his hand. He took a long sip of the eggnog and smiled.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Go on, have the rest,” he said. “I’ll pour myself another.”

“Oh, you really are too sweet—”

“Am not!” Crowley yelled as he made his way to the kitchenette. “Gluttony, angel!”

“If you insist, love.”

Crowley huffed and rolled his eyes as he poured himself another glance (and if he miraculously upped the alcohol content, that was  _ his  _ business, please and fucking thank you).

“Crowley, there’s another bag here!” Aziraphale finally called out. “Oh, I must’ve missed it—”

“Wait wait wait wait  _ wait _ , hold on—”

“Oh— _ oh my _ ,” Aziraphale whispered, just as Crowley slid back into the back room.

He was holding the ornament—the  _ special  _ ornament—delicately, the ribbon pinched between his fingers as the glass figurine spun in the light, casting multicoloured flecks across the room.

A pair of wings made of stained glass, shining with every colour in the rainbow.

“Oh  _ Crowley _ ,” he muttered as he watched the glass catch the light. “They—it’s  _ beautiful _ .”

“‘S nothing, angel,” Crowley said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… saw it and thought of you is all.”

Aziraphale had that look on his face, the one that made his eyes light up like the fairy lights that twinkled around the room.

_ He _ was gorgeous.

The angel got up and carefully hung the ornament on the tree, right in the middle.

“I love you,” he murmured after, leaning against Crowley’s side.

“I love you too, angel,” Crowley replied softly, kissing the top of his angel’s head.

  
Yeah. Christmas  _ definitely _ had its perks.

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me what you think!


End file.
